To You
by Orchid Falls
Summary: Five of the letters Katniss never sent Gale and the one that she did. Post mockingjay. Katniss/Gale and Katniss/Peeta.


**A/n's: **Again, originally written for the 2010 Yuletide challenge. And an attempt at fix-it fic post mockingjay for Katniss and Gale's relationship. Hopefully I'll try branching out on non-yuletide things soon. Searches for prompts!

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><p><strong>To You<strong>

Dear Gale,

I guess I've gone over this letter a thousand times in my head, maybe more, but it seems that much harder to actually write something down and put it out there. After the last games and the concussion I suffered they told me to go over things in my head to make them that much clearer. I guess this is what this is; it just seems that little bit harder.

I hear you've landed yourself a job in district two, (Greasy Sae – she always was a gossiper) some fancy TV show. They always said you had a face for it, much better at a script too, I'll bet. You never did freeze as soon as that camera lens hit you.

As for me I came back to district twelve, after all there's no other place for me. My Mother's gone on to other districts, helping out as best she can and I guess it's too hard for her to come back here and – well... what with all the bad memories. So it's just me now and Haymitch. What other place would there be for him? The two of us rattling around and trying to survive without killing each other. I think it's nice though, (even if I'll never tell him) our own little family. The two of us were never built for other people.

There are rumours that others will return: the Smiths and the Grendans, the Hawthorne's too some say, though I doubt it. There are plenty of old families that I couldn't imagine district twelve being without. Time will tell I guess. Maybe one day you'll walk these streets again, Gale. Maybe one day.

Yours,

Katniss.

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><p>Dear Gale,<p>

It's been over a year now and district twelve is slowly re-building itself back together. Who would have thought it?

We have our own little unit now, what I guess you would call a ramshackle family. There's still myself and Haymitch, the two of us plodding on together, but now we have Greasy Sae as well (she cooks enough bacon for Haymitch to live and die on) and Peeta.

He came back one morning, just as if he'd never left me; just as if he'd been outside all this time, waiting. He was planting primroses just outside my house for me, for Prim really, so she'll never be lost in my memory. They're blooming right now; bright white flowers and pale pinks and sunshine yellow. She'd have loved them I think. I wish you could see them.

We do our best to keep busy, Peeta's re-building the bakery; the smell of fresh loaves and hot cinnamon buns and sweet cakes enough to make your taste buds melt right down the back of your throat. It's finally managing to rid the town of that burnt coal smell though, the scent of fire and ash that only serves to be a constant and fresh reminder.

He stays with me sometimes; he's one of the only people who has always understood my nightmares. He has his own of course, and sometimes I still lose him to that other world; the one where everything is twisted and clouded. But he's here for me, his hand curling around mine when everything gets a little too hard, when everything is sharp and jagged and I can wake up screaming the names of the people we lost.

The town is cleaned out now, the bodies that they found (Madge and her family never did make it) brought out and given the proper burials they deserved. Too many bodies really, too many people that never stood a chance.

I get away from it all by hunting. The gates aren't charged anymore, easy to slip through and back in – not that there's anybody to care now or take notice. Our hunting grounds have grown, the trails we made with soft footfalls overgrowing with long grass and weeds and shrubbery. The fresh air is good for me though, the soft twang when my arrow hits its prey, comforting.

There's always something missing though. I am sure you would laugh if I said it was you.

Always,

Katniss.

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><p>Dear Gale,<p>

I saw you on the TV the other day, your show playing loud and proud for all in the district to see. It wasn't that I was avoiding it, although I'm sure you'd say otherwise. After all how long have you known me? I think I found it hard really, seeing you up there, almost close enough for me to touch, as if you were here still, right next to me talking.

I can't believe how much you've changed. You've always been sure of yourself, confident and strong and well put together. But now you're like a whole new person. You look better, stronger somehow as if you're sure of the person you've become. I guess that's getting away from here, isn't it? The district? And me and all of my problems?

Your hair is a little longer, that's what I noticed, curling around your ears and lighter too. You're different from how I remember, different from the Gale that I loved. I think I can say it now, now that there's nobody out there to hear it, just me and this piece of paper.

I think of you when I hunt, you know. The kisses we shared, all those moments together. I wonder over who you're with now, over whether she makes you happy.

I'm proud of you, you know. I always will be.

Forever,

Catnip.

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><p>Dear Gale,<p>

It's been too long now, hasn't it?

I still watch your show, you know; see the subtle shifts that the years make on your body. You were always saying you'd get more dashing as you grew older, well let me be the first to say I know far too many girls who would agree.

It's funny to see you smiling so often, as if the grin on your face cannot be contained, lighting up those around you and even a few of the sorry old faces around this place. I remember your anger at being confined here, your worries over how we'd all get through. I always knew deep down you'd make it. I always thought one day you would fly the coop.

Things are better now here and settling down. You'd be surprised how much work our district can do when we all work together, re-building the streets and shops and houses one-by-one until we resemble something better. The district is a rainbow of colours now, walking through the square a treat as everything you can do and buy really starts to hit you. Peeta's done an amazing job of bringing back the bakery; can you imagine fresh thick loaves fat on your plate every single morning? We'd never have even dreamed of it. I help him out in the mornings, early rises as we start on the bread and prepare fruit loaves and cakes for the oncoming masses. He sells three times as much as his Mother, but who wouldn't prefer to buy from him than that scowling old oaf?

There's not much I can do now as I'm so big. No more hunting for me, but surprisingly I don't even miss it. The fresh air maybe and the chance to walk and run through the forest, but the thought of all that now makes my feet wince in pain at the memory.

Peeta says it won't be long before I pop now – and he still brings me home fresh treats from the bakery – and I have Haymitch taking bets on whether it's a boy or a girl, or even (can you believe him!) some sort of monster!

My feet ache even when I've not used them and my skin feels stretched to breaking point, but apparently I still look beautiful! It's strange to think that there's a small life inside of me, not something that I ever wanted, remember? I never allowed myself to imagine this would happen. But here I am, eight months and two weeks pregnant and feeling my fingers too heavy to even hold this pen, let alone my favoured bow and arrows! You'd laugh you know if you saw me now, waddling everywhere and needing to sit down every five seconds. I keep active of course, which drives everyone crazy, but what do they expect? I never was one for sitting still.

Thinking of you,

Katniss.

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><p>Dear Gale,<p>

I am now a Mother. My beautiful baby girl is now two weeks old and completely healthy. My own Mother helped deliver her, making a special trip up to this district just to play the proud Grandmother, I've never seen her smile this big!

I know that people say babies do not smile at this age, but I swear she has her Father's dimples. She has the prettiest dark brown hair that I can tell will grow and fall into lovely ringlets. It's so soft to the touch and it still feels so delicate. Her eyes are the most startling blue I've ever come across and when she blinks those baby blues at me, I know that there's nothing I could ever deny her.

That's why I'm writing this letter to you. You see, as soon as she was born and passed into my arms and I could truly look at her, that's when I noticed; my baby girl is a combination of the two men that I have always and always will love in my life.

I tell her stories at night; of our adventures in the forest and how we fought for everything we loved and held dearly. I tell her about Prim, I tell her how much she would have loved her and how she must be watching right now from up above, always smiling. I tell her about all the mistakes I've made in my life and hope and pray that she never makes them. I tell her how much I miss you and how long I've waited for our reunion.

Always yours and waiting,

Your Catnip.

**End.**

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><p>As always, comments and thoughts are appreciated.<p> 


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